


Hallucinations

by guardian_rhia



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Hallucinations, M/M, Poor Q, but hey theres fluff, i am so terribly sorry, james-fucking-bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardian_rhia/pseuds/guardian_rhia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q's alone at Q-Branch and starts to think about the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know what happened. This was supposed to be all fluff and happy and stuff and turned into ... this. ._. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and I'd be happy about comments or stuff :)

It was a dark and stormy night. The Thames was a lot higher than usual, and it had rained for almost a week now.  
Q, however, mostly ignored the weather. Well, actually he didn’t even know how bad it was ‘cause he hadn’t left Q-Branch for the same time it rained. He had entered shortly before the apocalypse (no, it wasn’t an apocalypse. But for normal citizens, it felt like one) had started, and hadn’t went home since then. Luckily he kept spare clothes in his locker, and luckily he had a couch in his office which could be transformed into a bed when needed. And that was where he lived.  
His minions didn’t question it, although one of the newer ones tried to convince him to go home. All he got was an angry glare and a huff.  
The reason he didn’t wanted to go home wasn’t because of what would have awaited him there, but rather because of what wouldn’t await him.  
There was nobody in his flat. No one to greet him when he came for work, no one to surprise him with coming back unexpected.  
The head of Q-Branch sighed and continued his coding, appearing almost sleep-like to a possible watcher.  
But since it was 4 a.m. there was no one left in Q-Branch except Q. He was all alone, and to be honest he preferred this to the crowded daytime, when his minions and sometimes even Double-Oh-Agents were around, talking, typing and making noise.  
No, now all he heard was his own typing and the soft piano music playing in the background.  
The truth was, he was simply afraid of going back to his flat. Everything there reminded him of his partner, and even now, even two years after Bond went MIA, he still couldn’t look at pictures of them and not cry.  
He had loved that man, hell, he still loved him. And that was why he was a complete wreck now. Bond had been declared dead four months after he went missing and yet Q had never lost hope. Yeah, two years were a long time, and it was very likely for Bond to be dead, but there was this little voice in Q which said that he had always returned until then.  
Usually Q silenced that voice with a short “There’s a first time for everything”, but tonight was different.  
Tonight he allowed his mind to wander, to drown in old memories.  
There was their first date, Bond had taken him to see Les Miz and have dinner afterwards.  
Their first time, after they had dated for a couple of months. It had been Q who took the last step and told Bond he’d like to get fucked by him. Bond had been pleasantly surprised, had been gentle and loving, caring.  
After one year they moved together, Bond had sold his flat because Q’s was bigger.  
He still remembered the look Bond had given him when he discovered that the shelf Q used for books was in reality a piano. He had begged him to play something, and Q just couldn’t resist the blue puppy-eyes, he never could. It would be a mystery forever how a grown man (and a merciless killer) could manage to look so adorable. He hadn’t played in ages, but once his fingers remembered the movements it was easy. He had played his favourite piece, called “The Cloud Atlas Sextet” written by an uncle of his mother called Robert Frobisher. Q lost himself in the music and from now on he would play more often for Bond.  
He hadn’t touched the piano since Bond went missing, why should he? He had no reason to play anymore.  
A faint thunder stopped his thoughts and Q shivered. He needed something to distract him, coding didn’t do it. He decided to go shooting. He had practiced with Bond every day and that was one of the few things remained from before his fall, as he liked to call it. Shooting was calming, and he could live out his aggressions.  
Luckily the shooting range was just next to Q-Branch so he took the gun from his table, where it rested since one of his minions went crazy and decided to run amok. Q had survived but many employees hadn’t been as lucky as him. And on some days he wished he had been killed too.  
When he arrived at the shooting range he thought that there was a shadow standing at the end of the range, but as he switched on the light he was alone. Lonely.  
He grabbed some more magazines, logged himself into the computer and redefined the previous settings. Then he started shooting.  
He heard Bond’s voice, giving instructions, correcting his position and he had to remind himself that this were just memories, that none of this touches were real.  
And yet, all of them felt as Bond would be there. Really there, teaching him how to shoot properly.  
Q closed his eyes and just begged for the hallucinations to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

“That is a Walther.”, Bond’s voice was soft and Q didn’t open his eyes.  
“Yes. Yours. You were supposed to get it after you would have returned from your mission.”, he whispered. Well, this was the final proof that he was insane. After all, he was talking to a hallucination. But it seemed so real ... almost to real.  
“Walther PPK S, 9 mm short. There’s micro-sensor in the grip, it’s been coded to my palm-print so only I can fire it.”, the voice next to his ear quoted the words he had told him nearly six years ago.  
“Yes.”, Q muttered again. “But I changed it. I added my palm-print. It was one of the few things left of you. I wanted to keep it. I know that’s sentiment, but ... “  
“I understand you.”, the touches slowly faded and Q dared to open his eyes.  
Yes. He was alone. Of course. Bond was MIA, most likely dead.  
He sighed. God, he behaved like a paranoid, love-sick teenager. Which he was definitely not, despite his look.  
He sighed again, put the empty magazines on a shelf and froze, when he heard an actual sound coming from the hallway. Instantly he lifted his gun, went towards the door and opened it.  
Just a second later and he would have missed the shadow disappearing into Q-Branch.  
Without making any noise he followed, carefully opening the door and aiming the gun at whoever the intruder was.  
He was prepared to shoot. But he didn’t.  
His gun dropped with a dull sound as his hand were suddenly to weak to hold it. Q had to hold onto the doorframe to not topple over.  
Because the intruder – who was lying on his couch right now – was Bond, eyes closed. Yes, it could have been another hallucination, but in all of them Bond had always been clean, like dressed for a dinner party.  
Now he was injured, though not bleeding anymore. His clothes looked raggedy, probably second-hand things he stole somewhere and even torn in some places. His eyes were closed and his body relaxed, but from his heavy breathing Q could deduce that he was mostly awake. Bond didn’t react to the sound the gun made nor did he to the sound of Q carefully approaching and kneeling beside the couch.  
“You’re alive.”, his voice broke with the last syllable and he suppressed a sob.  
“I am sorry.”, was the soft answer and then Bond opened his eyes, the wintery blue shining like a crystal. He slowly sat up and looked at the man to his feet.  
Q looked up to him, with tears in his eyes, and reached out for his partner, careful and very slow as if he could scare him away if he would move to quick.  
Bond took his hand and brought it up to his cheek, letting the brunette caress his skin. He closed his eyes again, enjoyed the touch of his lover.  
But once Q was completely convinced that the man would not die in the next few hours he retreated, wiping away the tears.  
“You were _gone_!”, he hissed angrily, glaring at Bond, who just sighed.  
“I was. And I apologise, Q.”, his voice was rough as if he hadn’t used it for ages, but Q just continued.  
“Do you have _any_ idea what I went through? I tried to find you, even _after_ M declared you dead! I never lost hope, I even broke the law trying to find you! And now you turn up, saying you are _sorry_ and expecting me forgive you at once?!”  
The agent smiled sadly: “No, of course not. But I was hoping you could forgive me in a few years. I really am sorry, William.”, he stood up and made his way towards the door, stopping when Q demanded to know: “And where do you think you are going?”  
“To find a hotel, obviously.”, was the dry answer.  
“Definitely not. You, my dear, are going to medical.”, Q advised, his voice as cold and hard as ice.  
“It’s four in the morning. There’s nobody here except you and me.”  
“I’ll call medics. And M. He has to know.”  
Bond looked at him and decided it was no use arguing, so he just nodded. 

10 a.m. and everyone in MI6 knew that James- _fucking_ -Bond was back.  
And that he had once again terrorised Medical. But at least he was alive.  
M took a look at Q and sent him home with Bond. His Quartemaster wouldn’t be any help today – not with being awake for more than 2 days and his lover coming back from death.  
When they reached their flat it was Bond who entered first.  
“You changed nothing.”, he remarked and turned back to Q – only to receive a hard slap.  
And then a fierce kiss.  
“Of course I didn’t. Welcome home, idiot.”, the Quartermaster muttered, tears shimmering in his eyes as Bond kissed him back.


End file.
